


This Was Once a Love Poem

by BrighteyedJill



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Come as Lube, Drunk Sex, Gang Rape, Gaslighting, Humiliation, M/M, Multi, Power Imbalance, Rough Sex, Unhappy Ending, Valdo Marx Being an Asshole, Victim Blaming, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:49:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26951680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrighteyedJill/pseuds/BrighteyedJill
Summary: Jaskier's first year at Oxenfurt is going swimmingly. He's fallen into bed with the dashing Valdo Marx, a sophisticated fourth-year student. And now Valdo's asked Jaskier to perform at a gathering of his friends. It's a great opportunity to get to know the right kind of people, Valdo has assured him. And Valdo's advice has been good so far.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Male Character(s), Jaskier | Dandelion/Valdo Marx
Comments: 33
Kudos: 154
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	This Was Once a Love Poem

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Whumptober Day 11: "Psych 101." Jaskier’s age is not explicitly mentioned, but this fic takes place during his first year at Oxenfurt. Thanks to some-stars for beta-ing!

Jaskier took another swig of wine from his goblet, which someone had refilled again, and found himself leaning against Valdo, who sat next to him on the divan. He should probably slow down the drinking, or by the time Valdo asked him to perform, he might fumble his chords, and that wouldn’t do. It had been quite a coup to convince Valdo to invite him to this soiree, a weekly salon Valdo held with others in his fourth-year class to critique each other’s work, drink wine, and gossip. 

Being included in such a gathering after only a few months at Oxenfurt was an enormous privilege, Valdo had told him. And Valdo’s advice had proved quite useful so far. Jaskier felt extremely fortunate to have caught the older student’s attention, and, of late, to have been invited to Valdo’s bed. He’d certainly been picking up useful tips there as well.

Valdo turned to smile at Jaskier and raised his goblet. Jaskier raised his in return, and when Valdo threw back his drink and drained the contents, Jaskier mirrored him. There didn’t seem to be a graceful way to decline the refill Valdo poured him. 

As the hours dragged, Jaskier consumed more wine and found himself in a pleasant haze with the others’ words washing over him. He felt warm and comfortable and blurry, with his head resting in Valdo’s lap. And at some point he realized that someone was rubbing his cock through his breeches. 

Jaskier pried his eyes open and saw Valdo smiling down at him. 

“Relax, Julian,” Valdo said. “Doesn’t that feel good?”

Jaskier nodded vaguely. His head lolled to the side and he saw the other half-dozen members of the salon watching him, some them already palming their own cocks.

“Wha?” Jaskier tried, but his tongue felt thick and heavy. 

“Shh.” Valdo placed a finger against his lips. “No need to talk. Here, you can suck my cock. You know we both enjoy that. Don’t you want to make me happy?”

Something didn’t seem right about that, but Jaskier’s wine-soaked brain couldn’t identify what. It probably wasn’t important. With some help from Valdo, Jaskier turned over onto his belly and saw Valdo’s cock already hard, his breeches pushed down to his knees. Jaskier started to lick and suck at the head, the way he knew Valdo enjoyed. Jaskier had learned quite a bit from Valdo in the past few weeks about giving and receiving pleasure. His cock stiffened in anticipation of what Valdo would do with him. 

“There’s my good boy,” Valdo said. “Just relax.”

Someone touched Jaskier’ waist, and he started. But Valdo tangled a hand in Jaskier’s hair and held him in place. “Relax, sweetling. My friends are going to help you feel good.”

Someone pulled off Jaskier’s boots, then tugged his breeches and braies down his legs and off. That seemed like a good idea. Jaskier’s hard cock dragged against the divan where he lay, and he closed his eyes to bask in the delicious friction.

“Keep sucking, dear,” Valdo said, and Jaskier worked to coordinate his movements enough to obey. 

Someone dragged him up onto his knees. Then a warm hand closed around Jaskier’s cock and squeezed. He yelped around Valdo as his climax sped through him and his hips jerked, spilling seed into the hand that held him. 

“Oh, look how easy,” said an unfamiliar voice. 

“He’s going to make such a wonderful slut.”

“There’s no doubt of that,” Valdo said with a chuckle. “He gets so excited.”

The hand that had touched Jaskier, now sticky with come, pushed between his asschecks to press a finger against his hole. 

“Gods, he’s tight. You fucked him yet, Marx?”

“No,” Valdo said. He used the hand in Jaskier’s hair to continue guiding Jaskier’s mouth up and down his cock. “Thought we should have that pleasure together.”

Jaskier whimpered as a finger pushed inside him. Valdo petted his hair soothingly. “You’ll like this. I know you will. I know what a boy like you needs.”

One finger quickly became two. It didn’t hurt, exactly. It felt strange and a bit uncomfortable, but Jaskier let Valdo keep guiding his head up and down, up and down and was able to lose himself in the familiar rhythm of pleasuring Valdo. Then, whoever had been fingering him pulled their hand out and wiped it on Jaskier’s thigh. 

“Now Henri’s going to make you feel good, pet. You just relax.” Valdo pulled Jaskier’s mouth off of him and settled Jaskier’s head in his lap. 

Jaskier grunted. He thought he should probably say something else as well. It was so difficult to concentrate, and words, which usually came so easily, seemed to have been drowned in all the wine. 

Hands gripped his hips, and then something large and blunt pressed against Jaskier’s hole. He tensed up, trying to squeeze his legs together, but the cock continued to spread his hole open, sinking into him as he thrashed weakly. 

“Settle down.” Valdo stroked a hand down Jaskier’s back. “You don’t want Henri to think you’re not eager to take him. I know you actually want it.”

Henri continued breaking Jaskier open on his cock while tears leaked from Jaskier’s eyes. Jaskier clung to Valdo, who continued to stroke his head and whisper comforting words. The world spun around Jaskier, and everything felt too large and bright and terrifying. 

At last, Henri was pressed up against Jaskier, fully sheathed in his body. He felt impossibly large, like he’d hollowed Jaskier out to make a place for himself inside, forcing out what had been there before. 

“You look positively lovely stuffed full of cock,” Valdo said. “Like you were made for it. Doesn’t he?”

“Pretty as a picture,” someone said. 

“If it’s a picture in a bawdy house.”

“Definitely nicer than any old whore.”

“You want Henri to fuck you now?” Valdo asked. Jaskier lifted his head far enough to look at Valdo, who brushed a thumb over his tear-stained cheek. “You do, don’t you?”

Someone, maybe Henri, reached under Jaskier and gently stroked his soft cock. Jaskier shuddered at the depth of the sensation. His brain felt hazy and far away. 

“You want him to fuck you real good, don’t you, Julian,” Valdo said. “I can tell you’re the type of whore who comes hardest when you’re being fucked nice and rough. You want him to wreck that tight little ass, don’t you?”

Jaskier didn’t think he wanted that. Did he? “Valdo,” he slurred. It was the only word that came to mind. Everything else got jumbled on his tongue. 

“I know, precious.” Valdo patted Jaskier’s cheek. “I know what you need. I’ll take care of everything.” He looked up over Jaskier’s shoulder. “Take him.”

Henri’s hands tightened on Jaskier’s waist, and he began fucking Jaskier in short, bone-rattling thrusts that punched the air out of him. A low moan escaped Jaskier’s throat. He struggled against the grip holding him, but his body wouldn’t obey his commands, and he only managed to wriggle. 

Henri kept fucking him until Jaskier slumped, panting, in Valdo’s lap and let them do what they wanted. Valdo petted him and petted him as Henri pounded away, rocking Jaskier’s body with every thrust. “You’re doing so well,” Valdo whispered. “You’re enjoying this, I can see. Just let Henri give you what you need, dear.”

Henri groaned as he came inside Jaskier. When he pulled out, it felt as if he left Jaskier gaping and exposed. He shivered as Henri stepped away, feeling the cool air of the room against his naked skin. 

Jaskier drifted, after that. Someone else fucked him, and before long Jaskier realized he also had a cock in his mouth that might have been Valdo’s. Jaskier felt come dripping out of his ass before another cock pushed inside. Much later, when Jaskier was lying on his back on the floor, gasping for air and feeling a thick line of come slowly slide down his legs, Valdo put his mouth on Jaskier and sucked him while working his fingers in Jaskier’s stretched, wet hole until Jaskier came again. 

The room got quieter as the others thanked Valdo for a lovely evening. A few of them patted Jaskier’s shoulder or his hip before they left. 

At last, Valdo sat down next to Jaskier with a cloth and a basin of warm water. “How are you feeling, pet?” he asked. 

Jaskier grunted. His head throbbed, and his stomach swam unpleasantly. He thought he might have swallowed quite a bit of come.

“You did so well tonight, Julian,” Valdo said as he washed Jaskier. “I’m so glad I invited you.”

“Valdo…” Jaskier tried. There was something he should say.

“The others were impressed, too. I could tell. It’s been a while since they embraced a new member of the salon this enthusiastically. That’s a very good sign.”

Jasier frowned, and turned his head to look at his lute, still in its case leaning up against the wall. “I didn’t even play.”

“Julian, Julian, Julian,” Valdo chuckled, and tapped a finger against Jaskier’s nose. “Those painfully juvenile compositions you’re working on aren’t the kind of thing you want to perform for people like this. They have real influence. Henri’s mother is a duchess. Florian’s childhood friend is Master of the Revels for the King of Temeria, and hires all the court’s entertainment. They’re invaluable contacts.”

“But…” Jaskier tried to ignore the sting of “juvenile compositions.” He turned what Valdo had said over in his mind, and ran up against a fundamental problem of understanding. “I didn’t play.”

“Julian, sweetling.” Valdo laid down beside Jaskier, propping his head up with an elbow so he could look Jaskier in the face. “Success in the bardic profession is not about talent, or even ability, which is to your benefit. Success comes from being liked. You need to make yourself indispensable to the people that matter.”

“Oh,” Julian said, feeling very small and naive. 

“After tonight, you’re so much further ahead in your career than anyone else in your year,” Valdo said. “You’ve earned it! That’s why I invited you tonight. Because I knew you could handle it.” Valdo’s wide smile lit up his face. “And you did.”

Jaskier smiled back. He had. He had handled everything, and he’d impressed Valdo’s friends. It hadn’t been so hard. Not everyone got an opportunity like that. “Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome, darling.” Valdo leaned over and pressed a lingering kiss to Jaskier’s lips. “I told you, I’ll take care of you.”  
\--

At the next week’s salon, Jaskier at least knew what to expect. He didn’t drink quite as much, hoping to avoid the wicked hangover he’d suffered last time. That proved a mistake, however, as the feeling of Rolph’s thick cock splitting him open was painfully vivid. Jaskier held back a scream and instead tried to hum a little melody that belonged somewhere else. Every few seconds the song faltered as Rolph thrust again, forcing himself further in and spearing Jaskier as if he were meat on a spit.  
\--

The members of the salon seemed to appreciate Jaskier’s efforts. As Valdo had said, these friendships had their benefits. After Lothair greeted him in the corridor one day, Jaskier’s classmates swarmed around him asking how he knew the student who’d won the Dean’s medal at last year’s competition. 

After class one day, Professor Hahn invited Jaskier to be part of an ensemble to play at the birthday party of some duke’s niece, saying Rolph had recommended Jaskier.

And in the dining hall, Jaskier received jealous looks from many other students when Florian beckoned him over to sit with them at supper. 

There were certainly benefits to becoming friends with Valdo’s friends.  
\--

Jaskier began preparing himself before the weekly salon. He’d slick himself liberally with oil and stretch himself with his fingers a bit--not too much, as he didn’t want to take away the pleasure his friends so obviously received by stretching him with their cocks. He also took three or four shots of vodka before leaving his room, so he needn’t fill his belly with so much wine. 

That week, while he was naked and bouncing on Lothair’s cock, his friends discussed the rhythmic structure of contemporary sea shanties. Having grown up in Kerack, Jaskier had plenty of opinions on the topic. He was about to tell Rolph that the traditional shanties were actually in 6/8 time when Valdo grabbed Jaskier by the hair to guide Jaskier’s mouth to his cock. With the amount of attention required to take two cocks, Jaskier lost track of the conversation  
\--

“Valdo?” Jaskier asked, as they walked to Florian’s lodgings where they were meeting this week. 

“Yes, my jewel?” Valdo asked, turning a bright smile on him.

“I, ah.” Jaskier wasn’t certain why he felt nervous. Valdo was a musician, too. He would understand. “I have a vocal recital tomorrow.”

“Do you not want to go to the salon?” Valdo asked, frowning. 

“No! No, of course I want to go,” Jaskier said quickly. “Just, could you ask them to go easy on my throat tonight?”

“Of course.” Valdo brushed a strand of hair out of Jaskier’s face. “Don’t worry about a thing, darling. I’ll tell them about the recital.”

Jaskier drank his first goblet of wine with a warm feeling, knowing Valdo was looking out for him. However, shortly after that first drink, Jaskier was pushed to his knees, and he was kept there until the wee hours of the morning. His friends passed him around, dragging him by the hair onto their cocks. They pulled him down so deep he could feel their cockheads hitting the back of his throat. They held him in place until drool slid down his chin and his eyes watered. He lost count of the number of times he choked and had to pull back, coughing and gasping for breath, until someone dragged him down by the hair again. He felt fervently glad he hadn’t had more than one glass of wine, as cock after cock spilled down his throat. One of them--Jaskier thought it might have been Rolph--fucked Jaskier’s throat so hard that Jaskier nearly blacked out. No one so much as touched Jaskier’s ass, though he’d stretched himself thoroughly in preparation. 

As Jaskier walked home with Valdo at his side, he couldn’t help the hot tears that slid down his cheeks nor, to his utter mortification, the ragged sob that tore from his ruined throat. 

Valdo turned and stopped in his tracks. His eyes widened as he took in Jaskier’s pitiful state. “Sweetling, what’s all this?”

“My recital,” Jaskier rasped through his tears. “I know it’s stupid, but--”

“No, no, Julian.” Valdo wrapped Jaskier in his arms and held him close. “Gods, you do sound dreadful. You must be especially sensitive. The boys were all being so careful. They know how important this recital is to you. Don’t worry, my dear. It’ll all come out right.”

Valdo took Jaskier back to his rooms, which were much nicer than Jaskier’s own. He made Jaskier some hot water with lemon, calling it, “My own personal vocal remedy,” as he held the cup to Jaskier’s lips for short sips. Then he tucked Jaskier into bed and sat next to him until Jaskier fell asleep.

When Jaskier woke, his throat was on fire with agony. He scrubbed his tears away with his sleeve, thinking of the high pianissimos in the ballad he’d rehearsed, portraying a princess’s dying wish, and the raucous force of his contrasting number, a Kerack sea shanty performed nearly at a shout. 

“What’s this, dove? Still not feeling well.” Valdo cradled Jaskier in his arms while he let out a few more silent sobs. “Come, none of that. I know what’ll make you feel better.”

After serving Jaskier some more hot lemon water, Valdo led him off of the university campus into one of the nicest parts of the city and right to a tailor’s shop that catered to the nobility. It was the kind of place where Jaskier would have been a customer, if the modest stipend he received from his father could have been stretched to cover such things. 

While Jaskier wandered, filling his eyes with the bright colors and reverently touching the soft fabrics, Valdo chatted knowledgeably to the shopkeeper, explaining what his “young companion” needed and that they were in a bit of a hurry. Luckily the tailor had a few things nearly completed that he thought might suit. 

When Jaskier stood before the mirror, admiring the perfectly-fitted doublet and matching breeches, he sighed in longing. Oh, how he wished he could afford such things.

“See how it brings out your eyes?” Valdo said. “When you look this good, no one will care how you sound.” Valdo turned to the tailor. “Can you get it finished before tonight?”

“I suppose I can, sir.”

“Then we’ll take it.”

Jaskier turned to grab his arm. “Val, I can’t--”

“It’s my treat,” Valdo said, holding up a hand to forestall him. “The least I can do to celebrate the latest performance of one of the most promising bards of his class.”

That night, Jaskier held his chin high as he croaked his way through his recital in a beautiful, new, peacock blue outfit. He managed to ignore the dismayed expressions of his instructors in favor of the winks and grins from Valdo and his other friends, who sat together in the third row.

Afterwards, they took a private room at the Cock and Crown to celebrate. Jaskier felt light-headed and dizzy as his friends toasted him and clapped him on the back and told him how handsome he looked. And when they all got down to fucking him, later, Jaskier didn’t object when Valdo wanted to come down his throat.  
\--

Jaskier had stopped bringing his lute to the weekly salons. The others played for each other and received praise and pointers, though as Jaskier was inevitably occupied during those times, he didn’t participate in the critiques.

“You should become better friends with them first,” Valdo said when Jaskier asked about playing. “Make sure they really like you before you expose them to your compositions. That recital, they understood--you had an excuse, after all. But music of your own… Perhaps you should wait until you’ve composed something worth showing them.”  
\--

Henri got them all invitations to a ball at the castle of some prince--the king’s second cousin or something like that. Valdo bought Jaskier another outfit for the occasion--silver trimmed with ice blue. Jaskier couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he and his friends climbed out of Henri’s carriage at the door. 

The ball was a whirl of color and music and smells. No one seemed to be paying any attention to the trio of musicians strumming away in the corner. Jaskier watched for a while, admiring the intricate fingering and the jaunty melodies that seemed at least half improvised. 

“There you are.” Valdo appeared beside Jaskier and took hold of his arm. “Come on, we have important people to meet.” Valdo steered them deftly around the ballroom, introducing Jaskier to some people, avoiding others, and making certain Jaskier’s wine glass remained full.

Florian approached through the crowd with a stranger at his side, a tall, broad-shouldered man easily as old as Jaskier’s father. The man had an impressive moustache and beard, not to mention extremely fine clothing, and he was looking directly at Jaskier.

“May I introduce Baron Lenval,” Florian said. “Baron, I believe you’ve met Valdo Marx, the noted troubadour. And this is Julian, whom I was telling you about. Julian, the baron is a well-known patron of the arts.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, baron,” Jaskier said, making his bow. 

“It will be.” The baron returned his greeting with a nod.

Julian couldn’t say why that made him blush, but Valdo was at his side, nudging him in the shoulder. “Julian, perhaps you’d like the baron to show you the gardens?”

“Ah, yes.” Jaskier turned a smile on the baron. “I’d be delighted.”

“This way.” The baron swept his arm to indicate the direction.

Jaskier went, throwing a look back to see Valdo wink at him. The baron loomed beside him, a bit intimidating in his finery. But Jaskier wasn’t ignorant of what a useful opportunity this might be. He wouldn’t make Florian regret introducing him. As he followed the baron outside onto the grounds, Jaskier cleared his throat and asked, “So, you’re a patron of the arts. What kind of art do you enjoy?” 

“My greatest pleasure is helping promising young artists find their way in the world,” the baron said. He settled a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder and steered him out of the blazing torchlight along the path to the gardens and onto a darkened terrace. 

“Ah,” Jaskier said. He wasn’t certain what reply to make to that, and in any case he was fully occupied with making sure not to trip on the uneven ground and make a fool of himself. 

“This is far enough.” 

“Far enough for--”

The baron shoved Jaskier around by the shoulder and pushed him against the waist-height wall that bordered the terrace. Then he settled a hand on Jaskier’s hip and pawed at the laces on Jaskier’s new breeches.

“Sir--” Jaskier tried to turn, but a hand between his shoulder blades held him in place. 

“Your friends assured me you were interested in my patronage, Julian,” the baron growled. “Were they wrong?”

“Oh.” Jaskier swallowed, remembering Valdo’s wink. Jaskier hadn’t quite realized this is what they’d meant by introducing him to important people. But Valdo knew what was necessary to get ahead as a bard. He was trying to help. “No,” Jaskier whispered, then cleared his throat and tried again. “They weren’t wrong.”

He rested his cheek against the cool stone of the top of the wall as the baron yanked the fastenings loose and pushed Jaskier’s breeches and braies down around his knees. Jaskier turned his head to look out at the lanterns lit along the garden paths, where some couples were strolling. Quite a romantic setting. A good subject for a ballad, perhaps. 

A firm hand pushed down at the small of Jaskier’s back, and Jaskier braced himself against the edge of the wall. When the baron’s cock breached him, Jaskier couldn’t contain a whimper at the pain. He hadn’t prepared himself tonight, not realizing this would be one of the evening’s activities. He’d rather thought there might be dancing.

The baron clamped a hand over Jaskier’s mouth and thrust forward. He fucked into Jaskier at a brutal pace. Jaskier’s insides felt as if they were being dragged out as the baron pulled away and then shoved forward, tearing his way in. 

Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut, grateful for the baron’s large hand over his mouth, capturing the groans and whimpers that he no longer needed to hold back. He concentrated on breathing as he endured the onslaught, his back protesting the awkward position and his palms scraping on the rough stone of the wall. At last, the baron grunted, grabbing hold of Jaskier’s hips as he pumped Jaskier full of his spend. 

They stayed locked together a moment as the baron regained his breath. Then the baron pulled out, one last long drag against Jaskier’s insides, though somewhat slicker now with seed and blood. 

“Good lad. Very promising.” The baron patted Jaskier on the ass and walked away. 

Jaskier sank to his knees. With shaking hands, he put his clothes to rights and re-tied his breeches. He shouldn’t be sitting on the ground in these new clothes. They’d get dirty. He used the wall to pull himself to his feet, then scrubbed his hands over his face. He should go back in. He probably looked like an idiot standing here alone.

Jaskier crept back into the palace, where the revelry was still in full swing, the musicians playing a jaunty tune as couples whirled together across the floor and lanterns blazed. With every step, Jaskier could feel the baron’s come seeping out of him. At last, he spotted Valdo and picked his way through the crowd to make it to the shelter of his side. 

“There you are, treasure.” Valdo turned, gave him an absent peck on the cheek, and handed him a full glass of wine. “Did you and the baron enjoy yourselves? You’re very lucky he’s taken an interest in you.”

Jaskier tipped the glass up and drained the entire thing before handing it back to Valdo. “I’m not feeling well. I’d like to go home.”

“Oh, darling. I’m sorry you’re out of sorts.” Valdo took Jaskier’s hand and patted it. “I can’t leave just yet. There are a few more people I need to talk to. Just another hour or two. Then I’ll take you home. In the meantime, you should sit down and rest.” Valdo squeezed Jaskier’s hand and gave him a brilliant smile. “I’m so proud of you. You’re making all the right impressions tonight.”

Jaskier left Valdo to his pursuit of someone important. He made his way back towards the entrance, looking as he went for his other friends. He spotted Rolph at one point, and Lothair a little later, but couldn’t seem to catch their attention. At last, he left on his own. The footmen were a bit confused at his not needing a carriage, but they let him pass the gate on foot. It took Jaskier several hours to limp home, wincing at every step and with his wet, sticky braies clinging to his skin. Despite the late hour, he indulged in a scalding hot bath before falling into bed.

The next morning, he received a message offering him a very handsome sum to play at Baron Lenval’s masked ball in three days’ time.  
\--

By spring, Jaskier was playing at this noble house or that two or three times a week. His classmates were mad with jealousy at his ability to find employment so easily. 

He played at Baron Lenval’s several times a month. The baron would send a carriage for him, was generous with the use of his personal tailor to craft outfits for important performances, and would almost always send Jaskier off with a little extra above the agreed-upon fee. Often, Jaskier would be expected to spend the night with the baron or one of his friends, but that always meant he’d have a lavish breakfast and access to the carriage again to take him back to the university. 

Half of Jaskier’s clientele had met him during those performances at the baron’s, though only a few of them expected him to accommodate them in similar ways. Aside from those, his other patrons, when asked, would say they’d gotten Jaskier’s name from Florian or Rolph or Valdo, so Jaskier had stopped asking. It was clear to him where credit for all his success was owed. 

As busy as Jaskier was with his performances, his schoolwork did suffer. 

“Never mind that, pet,” Valdo told Jaskier, comforting him after Jaskier had been given a thorough dressing down by the dean of the college of music. “The connections you’re making are ten times more important than anything you’ll learn in a stuffy old classroom.”

Valdo was right, of course. So no matter how busy Jaskier got, or how far behind on his assignments, he never missed a meeting of the salon.  
\--

As spring melted into summer, Jaskier realized the friends he’d met through Valdo--practically the only people near his age he really knew at Oxenfurt--would be graduating soon and going their own ways. And Jaskier still had never once been invited to play at a meeting of the salon. 

When Jaskier asked Valdo about it, Valdo laughed. He wrapped Jaskier in his arms. “Julian, pet. I’ve seen enough of your work now to know that you’ll never be a great musician. Your ballads are derivative, your rhymes dubious, and your melodies--well, I don’t wish to be needlessly cruel, so we shan’t discuss them.”

“But…” Jaskier blinked at him, words dying on his tongue upon hearing that assessment of his compositions. “I…”

“You’re better off with your friends loving you for your other talents rather than listening to any of that. Trust me, Julian, it’s better if they don’t hear you.”

“All right,” Jaskier said. He swallowed hard, thinking of the hours this afternoon he’d spent practicing the fingering for his latest composition, which at the time he’d thought quite witty. 

“Oh, no tears now,” Valdo said with mock severity. “I told you, darling, you don’t need talent or ability to succeed as a bard. Even with no more musical gift than a braying donkey, you can still earn your way in this world if you do as I taught you.” Valdo held him by the chin and bestowed a gentle kiss. “I have every faith that you’ll build the career you deserve, Julian.”

At the year’s final salon, no one bothered to perform. They talked of their upcoming travel plans, and toasted each other, and fucked Jaskier until they were tired of him.  
\--

Jaskier went to see Valdo off the morning he was to depart for Cidaris, where he’d been offered a position in court. Jaskier presented him with a fine quill in a clever, slim little case, which Valdo pronounced “perfectly quaint” and shoved inside one of his saddlebags.

Jaskier shifted his weight awkwardly as he watched Valdo ready his horse. At last, he blurted out, “Thank you.” Valdo glanced over his shoulder at him, and Jaskier added, “For everything.”

Valdo gave Jaskier one of his brilliant smiles, and left off his preparations to take Jaskier by the hands. “It was my pleasure, little flower. You simply needed someone to teach you how to use your talents. I’ll certainly miss those,” he said with a wink.

“Well, I’ll always be happy to give you a private performance,” Jaskier said, and ducked his head to hide the pleased blush that sprang to his cheeks. 

“I’m counting on it.” Valdo leaned in to press a kiss to Jaskier’s cheek. “I look forward to enjoying your performances for many years to come.”

Jaskier watched Valdo ride out of the gate and off of the university grounds, leaving Jaskier with only what Valdo had taught him.

**Author's Note:**

> I am sorry for my sins! For more squeeing Witcher talk, come find me on Tumblr: [brighteyedjill](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/brighteyedjill)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [if you live through this with me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27112639) by [some_stars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/some_stars/pseuds/some_stars)




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